


A Warmth

by fewlmewn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Crushes, Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewlmewn/pseuds/fewlmewn
Summary: Essek navigates his feelings.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	A Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a rush because I have many feelings about Essek and everything that's happening. Not proofread or anything, I just needed those feelings _out_.
> 
> Spoilers for c2e97.

When his hand touches the edge of yours you get a glimpse of heat. A microsecond in the macrocosm of what that foreign warmth could mean. You recoil as if the fair freckled skin were the most scalding thing you’ve ever touched. But like all curious minds, you go back to that barest shadow of a touch and wonder, torture yourself thinking about it constantly, now unsure of its intensity. If only you could lay your own hand over his once more to test it, to assess it, to discover, perhaps your mind would finally be quiet. But you’re too afraid to do such a thing, you wouldn’t - cannot - dare. You tighten the robe around your frame and drift away, a little further, a little more distant with each passing day. Attempting, desperately, to forget one of many mysteries of him that plague you when you try to sleep.

When it returns, firmer, more determined, almost violent with its solid weight against you skin that no one has touched in so very long, you’re certain. All doubt flees from your mind and you know. He burns. He burns alive with passion and regrets and hopes and the love of all his friends. You can feel it through him, but it dissipates within you because you refuse to let it in, to stoke it. You dare to long, then, whenever they’re gone and he with them. You miss the laughter, the distraction, the freedom etched in the face they wear around you. They’re burdened, much like yourself, but they have the decency to hide it well. Not like you. You mope around, you close yourself off and drive away everyone who doesn’t share your same ideals. They didn’t, and for this bravery they have found each other. You’re jealous, and you long for a time never-happened when you could’ve had the same.

Many others touch you, with confidence and confidentiality, without waiting for permission you seldom - if ever - would be willing to give. They just seize your hands in theirs, a clap on your back, a tug at the hem of your robe. And they touch you from afar whenever they look into you, eager to get to know who you are. That gaze pierces the protective walls you’ve built, it enters without knocking and you feel so very vulnerable and raw. Exposed to the elements for the very first time. You feel the heat, the chill, the harshness and the softness of an entire world in their words, eyes and gestures. You want more, or at least the promise that you’ll be able to keep this much for as long as you can, but you don’t know if they’ll let you, and you’re too ashamed to ask.

His lips upon your forehead feel like what you think the sun should feel like, with none of its harshness and scorching strength. Only pleasantness and a faint warmth radiating across your face. But it’s still blinding. Yet it’s salvation.


End file.
